Kasumi's Mind
by GryffinMiraur
Summary: Just a short introspection into a frequently overlooked character. What does Kasumi really think?


Disclaimer: Takahashi's, just borrowing.

A/N: This is a small experiment to try getting inside one of the more overlooked Ranma characters. And I figured I had to try to write a bit about Kasumi as according to a Which Character Are You test, I am Kasumi.

Kasumi's Mind

I throw down my sponge in frustration. I've been over this as many ways as I can think of and I still haven't come up with a conclusion.  Why . . .why  . . .why does Dr. Tofu act like that around me? And why do I have to have fallen for him in the first place? What is wrong with me that he tries to get rid of me so quickly? Am I really that- I dare myself to think the word- boring?

            Sometimes I almost wish _I_ had been the one engaged to Ranma. Life certainly would be much more interesting for me. And then I see Ranma and Akane when they think no one is watching and the almost wish disappears. I refuse to interfere with love like that.

            I know it often seems that I'm oblivious or absent-minded or maybe, in some people's minds, not quite all there. But the truth is, I keep my mouth shut most of the time so that I can observe what goes on around me. As they say, it's always the quiet ones.

            Yes, and the quiet ones who don't make themselves heard are the ones who get left behind as I have been. I thought I could heal the family when Mother died by taking over all her duties and being the one that everyone ran to with a problem. I thought that maybe then everyone would reciprocate, but that isn't the case. No one bothers to think that I might have feelings that go beyond worrying about whether the laundry is done or the hot water is working. No, I'm merely a peaceful unpaid maid. 

            It's not that I mind doing domestic things. I don't and I wouldn't trust anyone else with them. Nabiki would charge exorbitant fees and Akane, well, Akane would try, she'd try very hard, but she wouldn't succeed. It's just that it might be nice if someone offered to help. They wouldn't have to help, just offer.  And I have learned a lot. Domesticity entails more than laundry or dishes. For example, I'm probably one of the few women in Japan who knows how to build a wall and repair a doorway and a roof. I thought it would be cheaper to learn how to rebuild it then to constantly get a builder in. Right now, my ambition is to build a wall that neither Ryoga nor Shampoo can break. 

            I'm often tempted to tell Akane about Ryoga, but I don't think it's my place to. If Ryoga has any of the honor he accuses Ranma of lacking, he should tell her himself. And Ranma, well, Ranma, in his own strange way, is almost nicer than everyone thinks I am. I don't think I could put up with half his problems without slipping arsenic into someone's tea or if things got particularly bad, my own. Ranma tries to please everyone and as is always the case when you try to do that, pleases no one.

            As a result, I hardly have any free time. I'm always cleaning up messes left from the last fight, rebuilding walls and trying to protect everyone's underwear from Happosai. I've never even had a chance to figure out what I might want to do if I weren't the domestic anchor of the household. Does this make me boring? I don't know. Maybe it does.

            I pick up a plate and look at my reflection. Oh, I suppose I'm not exactly what one would call ugly, but I'm, well, to be honest, I'm ordinary. No different from the millions of other Japanese housewives. I wouldn't admit this to anyone, but sometimes I'm envious of Nabiki and Akane. They're both at least interesting.

            Akane isn't a beauty, but she makes you think she is. I'd describe her as a Greek Amazon. She's one of the strongest and most persistent people I know and really, no one can get under her skin the way Ranma can. I picture them as a sort of Theseus and Hippolyta. We studied Greek myths once in school and I was always fascinated. I suppose if you look at things like that, I'd be Hestia, the goddess of the hearth that everyone forgets about but if she became angry, you'd know it.

            Nabiki has a sharp beauty to her, just like her personality. If she were a Greek character, she'd be either Athena or Hera. And Nabiki has the ability to be genuinely sexy which Akane and I do not. We aren't confident enough for it.

            And, once again, there's Ranma. When he's in girl form, he isn't exactly beautiful, but he is more attractive than any of us. Nabiki finds this humorous. I'm resigned to it,  and it infuriates Akane.

            I sigh and look at my reflection again. Someone once said we always think worse of ourselves than do others. A noise from the door startles me.

            "Oh, hello, Ranma," I say, "When did you get home?"

            "Just now," he smiles at me through the usual bruises and I am struck with a sudden idea. I can ask Ranma. He will tell me the truth, however unpleasant it is. Sometimes his lack of tact is an advantage.

            "Ranma, can I ask you a favor?"

            His blue eyes grow worried, "Is this about the dojo wall? I told Shampoo-,"

            I shake my head, "No, nothing like that. I have that under control. I want to ask you some questions"

            This is, apparently, even more worrisome, "Gee, Kasumi, I don't think I-," he catches sight of my face and relents, "OK"

            "It's nothing about Akane," I reassure him and he looks relieved, "it's about me." The relieved look disappears and the worried look is back.

           I'm hesitant to ask this, wondering what he will think of pleasant, sweet, oblivious Kasumi having doubts about things, but if Akane can take on a Dojo Destroyer with a broken hand, I can ask Ranma a simple question.

            "Ranma," I pause, still nervous, best start with an easy one, "am I pretty?"

            Whatever he's been expecting, that isn't it. He falls off the counter he's been sitting on.

            "What?"

            "Am I pretty?"

            His face clears when he realizes that whatever his answer is, I will not punt him through a window or punch him into the pond, and he nods.

            "Yeah, sure," he answers, "I mean, not like Ak-," he stops.

            "You can say it," I reassure him again, "I won't tell her"

            He blunders on as is his way, "Not like Akane or Nabiki or nuthin', but you are. You're more like- like somethin' that makes people feel better,  we learned somethin' about it in school, people paint them, some- some Western thing- lotsa Westerners pray to 'em or somethin',"

            My own schooling hasn't been in vain. I think I know what he's talking about and if I'm right, that makes me feel a lot better in terms of looks at least/

            "I think those are called Madonnas, aren't they?" I ask gently.

            "Yeah, that's it. That's what you're like, a-what was it again?"

            "A Madonna?"

            "Thanks, yeah, you're like a Madonna," Ranma looks at me nervously, "Anythin

 else?"

            I nod at him, "Yes, one more thing. Am I boring?"

            He looks concerned now, "Kasumi, are you all right?"

            And I don't know why, but I lose it, for the first time in as long as I can remember, I lose it. 4 simple words have unleashed years of frustration and of course, it is poor Ranma who is the unlucky recipient of a tirade.

            "No!" I say vehemently as I shatter a plate, I want to break things. I want to destroy this prison of a kitchen, but instead, something inside me breaks and the tears begin to flow. This really bothers Ranma. He, like everyone else, has never thought that I could have feelings that range beyond "Oh my."

            But Ranma's brave enough to stick around.

            "What is it?" he asks.

            "What's wrong with me?" I sob, "Why does no one care about me? I do everything right and I'm nice to everyone. I cook, I clean, I bandage, I smooth things over and no one ever notices. Am I that insignificant?" and then things come out that I can't stop, frustrations that I've never given vent to before and I know that in some sense I'm scaring Ranma but I can't stop my tears, "Why does no one love me? Why is it always Akane, Akane, Akane? Kuno, you, Ryoga, all those kidnappers. . .," and then I add lest he worry about acquiring yet another fiancée, "It's not that I want any of you to love me, I just want someone to notice me"

            "Dr. Tofu notices you," says Ranma tentatively.

            "Not the way I wish he would," I sniff at the same time as I feel relieved. It's out. I've admitted it. 

            "What?" Ranma looks confused, "But he dances around and stuff whenever he sees you."

            "I know," I say, "I wish he'd at least let me down gently. He doesn't have to act ridiculous to get rid of me. I could take it."

            At this statement, Ranma falls backward.

            "You-you think he does all that because he doesn't like you?" His blue eyes are shocked.

            I feel the tiny stirrings of hope within me, "Why else would he do that?" I ask.

            "Because he does like you," Ranma says wisely, "And he's afraid of you."

            "But why should he be afraid of me?" I ask.

            "Maybe," says Ranma standing up, "he's afraid you don't like him."

            I chance it, "The same way you are of Akane?"

            He doesn't answer this instead choosing to answer an earlier question, "You're not boring, Kasumi. You're just calm. You hold things together. And you're not insignificant."

            "Thank you, Ranma," I say picking up the remains of the plate. He stops me.

            "You can do that later"

            I blink at him, "What?"

            "You should go see Dr. Tofu."

            "Why?" I ask.

            "To tell him how you feel," a mischievous grin has plastered itself across Ranma's features, "maybe once he knows, he won't break things or people when he sees you. That would be nice for all of us, especially me."

            I let myself laugh and smile back. On my way out of the door, I turn back to Ranma and let the mask slip for a moment to show that really, all of us Tendo girls are sisters.

            "Hey, Saotome?" He looks up startled by my use of his surname, I permit myself a grin, "Take your own advice." And I slip out the door.

            When I arrive at the clinic, I notice for the first time how all the patients disappear on my approach and I am grateful. It's as if they know what I'm about to do and are granting me the solitude I need.

            Dr. Tofu is looking a bit bemused by his patient's rapid departure when I enter. He spots me standing nervously in the entranceway and smiles.

            "Why, Kasumi, how nice to see you," he says, welcoming me in, and, I notice, tripping over a mat.

            I smile nervously back, "I- I came to see you about something important."

            "Oh?" he turns toward his skeleton and addresses it, "Nothing serious, I hope."

            "I'm over here," I say, "And it is rather serious."

            He turns around and falls over his examining table in the process. Goodness, if Ranma is right as I hope he is, then I can stop the poor thing from bruises and breakage. I step forward and help him up.

            I notice his glasses are fogged. Hmm, a bit Mousse like maybe. If only . . .

            "Yes, what is it?" he asks wrapping a bandage round his head.

            "I-it's about me. And-and you, I guess," This is really hard. Now I have more sympathy for Akane.

            "Me?" He has stopped wrapping the bandage round his head and actually seems to be looking receptive and less goofy.

"Y-yes," and suddenly, words are tumbling haphazardly out of my mouth one on top of the other with no spaces in between, not at all the calm, collected image I wanted him to see, "Idon'tknowifyoufeelthesamewayandyouprobablydon'tbutIhavetotellyouall thesamethatI thinkIloveyou."

            I cast down my eyes and wait for the, "Well, I'm very flattered Kasumi, but-," It doesn't come.

            Instead, he looks fairly lucid and he's looking down at me with an expression that is making my heart jump around.

             "Excuse me, Kasumi, but you said all that awfully fast and I may have gotten it wrong, but did you just say you loved me?" 

            Oh, he just didn't hear me. I begin to repeat myself.

            "Yes, I did say that but I'm sure you don't feel the same and that's all right, you know, you don't-," I am cut off because I am being kissed. Very thoroughly. Once he knew how I felt, the craziness stopped. He had been afraid of my feelings. Ranma was right, it was his way of defending himself. My last coherent thought is "Akane should try this sometime."

            Walking home afterward, I re-evaluate myself. I realize I haven't got to define myself by anybody else or what anybody thinks I am or should be. Whether I am significant, boring or noticeable is not up to anyone but me. It is only my views that count.  I am myself, I am Kasumi Tendo, and that is enough.


End file.
